


Cocoa Worth a Summoning

by CandyQueenAO3



Series: Ineffable Celestials [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Angel/Demon Relationship, Anxiety, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale has whatever effort you want, BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Banter, Captivity, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Hugs, Humor, I didn't specify, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Minor Violence, Pillow Principality Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Romance, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Teasing, it's all a misunderstanding though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:55:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23223619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyQueenAO3/pseuds/CandyQueenAO3
Summary: Aziraphale wakes up chained to a slab in a dirty room. This is less than optimal.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Celestials [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1674949
Comments: 54
Kudos: 347
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations





	1. The Summoning

Upon reflection, Aziraphale was grateful that he had been summoned while he was unconscious, rather than fully awake.

It would have been quite disorienting otherwise.

Though, considering the circumstances, he’d rather have not been summoned at all.

He had awakened to find himself chained to a flat, marble slab. His hands and legs had been pulled out, spread-eagle, and pinned by icy cuffs that spoke of magical intervention. His wings had been forced into existence, but  _ they  _ at least fluttered free.

The thought of them being touched or, Her forbid  _ nailed to the slab beneath him _ , sent a shudder of revulsion up his spine. At least whoever had summoned him had the “kindness” to not leave him without  _ some  _ form of modesty (even if it was just a pale slip of a gown).

The Angel of the Eastern Gate gave a jerk of his body to attempt to dislodge himself from his restraints, but they just seemed to chill further to the point where it almost hurt. Instead, he craned his neck to try and take in his surroundings.

The room his captors held him in wasn’t much to look at: all bare stone walls and a single dirty bulb. There was nobody with him, and when he extended his senses outwards he could tell that there were no other ethereal or occult presences nearby. From this, it was obvious that  _ humans  _ had been the one to abduct him, but the purpose for why remained to be seen.

Aziraphale let his head fall back against the slab with a clunk.

Best he could do right now was hope that his husband would swing by for a prompt rescue or, at the very least, the humans who summoned him would tell him what they  _ wanted  _ so he could go  _ home _ !

He didn’t have long to wait before a small group of humans entered through the doorway.

They were dressed in hooded, white robes that matched his gown (Really? White? For an angel? How cliche could they  _ be _ ?) and grey, beaked masks that reminded him of doctors from the 14th century.

At the moment, Aziraphale knew he should be worried, but all he could think about was how much Crowley had  _ hated  _ that century. It really had been quite gruesome…

The leader of the humans, if the red cross between the eyes of his mask was any indication, cleared his throat to get the angel’s attention. Aziraphale didn’t look at him, but replied in a clipped, “Can I help you?”

The man raised his hands and spoke in a voice with  _ entirely  _ too much inflection, “Oh great messenger of the Most High, we beseech you answer our prayers and-”

Aziraphale cut him off with a tut and a finger wag.

“Ah ah ah! Not a messenger, I’m afraid. That was always Gabriel’s prerogative. I was a  _ warrior _ . Though...I don’t really do much of the whole smiting nowadays. If you’d like an  _ excellent  _ recipe for cocoa that my husband makes, however, you’ve come to the right angel! Although I suppose you could have just  _ called  _ me rather than yanking me right out of bed in the middle of the night-”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to be interrupted by a closed fist slamming down on the joint of his wing. It didn’t break, thank Her, but it  _ did  _ send a jolt of pain through the appendage that felt akin to one bumping their funny bone. Aziraphale cried out at the unpleasant sensation and blinked rapidly at the tears that sprung to his eyes quite against his will.

“Enough! We  _ order you  _ to grant our requests!” the leader snarled.

Aziraphale bit back a whimper and flexed his wing to shake out the tingling in it.

“Fine! What do you  _ want?!” _ he gritted out between clenched teeth.

All at once a chorus of voices erupted from the humans.

“Money!”

“Power!”

“Women!”

“That cocoa recipe!”

Aziraphale blinked in surprise. Usually when humans summoned an angel, it was for either divine knowledge or blessed healing.

“I can’t really give you any of those things…” Aziraphale began. “...except for the recipe. I can do that. What you want are selfish, sinful things that, as an angel of the Lord, I am ill-equipped to deliver. You’d be better off summoning a  _ demon  _ for that. I know a fellow, his name’s Hastur, quite the frightful chap but-”

“You think anyone here would be foolish enough to make a deal with a  _ demon?! _ Those deals always come with some kind of horrible  _ catch _ . An angel, however, wouldn’t do such a thing,” the leader declared.

“Perhaps. However, I insist that I  _ cannot  _ help you. It is, quite literally _ , beyond my power _ to do so!”

One of the hooded figures, a woman by the sound of her voice, drew a kitchen knife that had been looped into the corded belt around her waist.

“This is a waste of time, trying to talk to this overstuffed pigeon,” she snarled.

“‘ _ Pigeon _ ’?! I’ll have you know-”

Aziraphale’s words died in his throat as the woman lunged forward to press the tip of her knife to his Adam’s apple. “I bet he’s  _ lying  _ to us. I wonder how long he’ll keep lying if we start cutting off  _ pieces _ . Besides, if he’s telling the truth, I’m sure that genuine angel wings could sell for a pretty penny…”

_ Now  _ Aziraphale was worried. He reached inside himself to tap into his wellspring of Grace to summon a miracle, but came up short.

Those blasted cuffs were silencing him!

“N-now see here, good madame,” the angel stammered. “Wouldn’t you much rather live a...a life of kindness and love _? _ ”

The woman dragged the tip of the knife across his throat, scraping just enough to make a mark but not enough to fully break the skin yet. She trailed it across his neck, over his shoulder, down his torso, and towards his primaries.

“You’d better start granting those  _ wishes _ , pigeon, before I-”

The door to the room exploded inwards with a burst of fire. The humans barely managed to jump out of the way in time to avoid the door as it was flung from its hinges and embedded in the opposite wall. Aziraphale felt the blade leave his wings as the woman spun to face this new threat.

“Oh thank goodness!” the angel exhaled in relief.

A tall figure clad in (were those black, silk pajamas?) strode through the entryway, flames clinging to his skin. Yellow, serpentine eyes with pupils narrowed to slits scanned the room with frightening intensity. When those eyes landed on the restrained figure, who gave a little wave, and the woman standing beside him brandishing a knife, they narrowed.

“Get. Away. From him,” the figure snarled.

The woman sputtered. “P-pardon?”

Crowley didn’t “move” so much as “blink into existence on the opposite side of the room”. He seized the woman in a taloned hand and slammed her bodily against the wall. She let out a choked gurgle and the knife clattered from her hand to the floor.

The other humans attempted to flee, but the flames from the doorway had risen higher, trapping them inside the room with this  _ thing _ !

Crowley pressed his face close enough to the woman that he could smell the fear leaking from every single one of her pores.

“What part of ‘get away from him’ did you not understand?” he hissed.

A forked tongue scented the air between them and the woman’s panicked breathing spiked.

“Crowley! For God’s sake, let these humans go! I think they’ve learned their lesson!” Aziraphale admonished.

Crowley didn’t take his eyes off his quarry, but angled his head a little to the side to address his husband better.

“They took you away from me. They tried to  _ hurt you _ . You expect me to just let them walk away after this?” he growled.

“Well...no. Not really. But perhaps we could do something a little less drastic than ‘rend them limb from limb’?”

Crowley’s arm trembled in barely restrained fury from where he kept the woman pinned. Finally, something in the air shifted. The demon hurled the woman away from himself, sending her crashing into her fellow summoners like bowling pins.

“Right...this is how it’s gonna go…” Crowley craned his neck from side-to-side, relishing in the cracks and pops. “All of you are going to leave this place. You will not  _ touch  _ Aziraphale again, you will not  _ look  _ at him again, and you will not  _ think  _ of him ever again! If I smell so much as a  _ whiff  _ of you little shits coming around my husband, I will not  _ hesitate  _ to hand you over to Hell. That is, of course, after I’ve finished  _ eviscerating you and feeding your own entrails to your pets!” _

There were matching cries of revulsion from both the humans and the bound angel at the mental picture. Crowley snapped his fingers and the flames blocking the doorway sputtered out. The humans picked themselves up and scrambled for safety, quite a few of them sending frantic apologies over their shoulders.

One of them, however, remained behind.

He lifted his mask, revealing a youthful face dusted with freckles.

“Um...actually...before I go...could I get that cocoa recipe?” he squeaked out.

Aziraphale wiggled in delight and Crowley groaned but snapped his fingers again. A 3x5 notecard materialized in his hand and he passed it to the trembling human.

“Here. Now  _ leave _ ,”

The human hugged the notecard to his chest and scampered away.

Aziraphale hummed, pleased to see that nobody had been unduly hurt.

“Thank you, dearest, I really appreciate you showing some restraint to those-”

Crowley didn’t let him finish and flung himself on top of his husband, kissing him with an urgency borne of desperation. Aziraphale’s squeak of surprise quickly morphed into a pleased moan. The demon pulled away with a gasp to pepper frantic pecks to his face.

“Oh  _ fuck!  _ Angel! You were  _ gone!  _ I woke up and you weren’t in my arms and you weren’t in the cottage and I just...just…” He choked and buried his face in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck while his hands continued to roam across his shoulders, arms, and face as if to reassure himself that the other was unharmed.

Aziraphale itched to bring his own arms around his husband, but the restraints made it a bit difficult.

“I’m  _ fine, _ dearest. I promise,”

Crowley didn’t lift his head, but nodded. Aziraphale pressed a soft kiss to the face beside his. “How about you let me out of these cuffs and we go back home and catch up on the sleep we missed?”

“Angel, it’s eight in the morning,”

“Oh! I really  _ was  _ gone longer than I thought,”

“Yeah…”

Crowley sniffled and lifted his gaze to meet his husband’s. The demon gave a wobbly, relieved smile and kissed him again, this time with far less urgency. When Crowley pulled back, Aziraphale could see that his tears had stopped and his pupils had dilated slightly.

“Dearest?”

Crowley cleared his throat, a blush creeping up from his collar.

“Ah...er...sorry, angel, it’s just that you look pretty good all trussed up like this,”

He pinched the cloth of Aziraphale’s gown between his fingers and his eyes flickered from the cuffs to his angel’s face and back again. All at once Aziraphale caught on and his smile turned coy.

He gave an upwards grind of his hips and cried out in a falsetto voice, “Oh dear me! I have been ensnared by my wily foe!  _ Whatever  _ shall I do? Perhaps I shall have to give into his  _ every lustful desire!” _

Crowley groaned in despair and hid his face under Aziraphale’s chin.

“That should  _ not  _ have been as hot as it was. Your acting is  _ atrocious _ ,”

“Oh don’t be ridiculous. You adore me,”

A roll of his snakey pelvis and the answering hardness was proof enough of that. Crowley propped himself up on his elbows to better look down at the “captured angel” underneath him.

“I do. I  _ really do _ , love,”

Quick as a flash he sunk his teeth into the juncture between Aziraphale’s throat and shoulder. His husband wailed like a martyred saint. 

Crowley grinned.


	2. The Return of Cocoa Guy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> People kept making friendly jokes about Cocoa Guy going back into the room and telling me how much they loved him so I decided to add more to this former one-shot. Please Note: there is a very brief implication of Rape/Non-Con (it's all just a misunderstanding and quickly resolved) so be aware of this before you continue!

Peter was _more_ than eager to put as much distance between himself and that _thing_ as possible. 

In all honesty, he hadn’t expected to be dragged into an  _ Enochian Summoning Ritual  _ of all things when his roommate told him he “needed to get out more”.

The Gumtree ad had only advertised for “fun-loving individuals looking for a sense of community”, not this cult  _ shit _ . Clutching his gifted cocoa recipe to his chest like a precious treasure, his hurried pace slowed to a near stop.

He looked down at his notecard, then back down the hall in the direction he had fled. The angel, Aziraphale, had been so  _ nice... _ it didn’t even threaten them or anything! Peter’s chest suddenly seized with a knot of guilt. That awful woman had threatened to slice the angel to ribbons just because the poor thing wasn’t able to fulfill their wishes? What kind of behavior  _ was that _ ?!

Then...that  _ monster  _ had kicked down the door and sent Peter and his “friends” fleeing for their lives, leaving that sweet little angel bound and helpless!

The guilt curdled into horror.

What had he done?!

Peter hadn’t heard much of the monster’s words over the sound of his colleagues’ panicked breathing and the thunderous pounding of his own blood in his ears, but it was clear that, by taking Aziraphale, Peter and his fellow summoners had accidentally incurred the wrath of  _ whatever  _ that thing was.

_ What if that terrifying creature saw the captured angel and thought of it as incapacitated prey that we were taking from him? Did he think we were stealing his kill? Was he savaging Aziraphale at this  _ very moment?

Peter’s worst fears were confirmed when the angel’s heart-rending howl echoed down the corridor. At that moment, a strange new emotion welled up inside Peter. It was one he hadn’t felt in a long time; not since he was a little boy defending his bullied classmates on the playground.

It was the desire to  _ protect _ .

Peter inhaled deeply, tucked his little cocoa recipe into his pocket, and sprinted back towards the sound of distress. He wasn’t sure  _ what  _ he was going to do against a being that could summon fire with just a snap of his fingers, but the young man certainly wasn’t going to go down without a  _ fight _ ! Maybe, if he was quick enough, he could break the cuffs, free the angel, and  _ together  _ they could take down the monster!

It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all he had in the way of one.

As Peter got closer, he could hear more clearly, over the sound of Aziraphale’s high-pitched moans, a rumbling growl.

_ Oh God! Was that monster  _ eating  _ him?! _

Peter didn’t triumphantly announce his presence as he burst into the room (that would have been stupid and given away his position entirely). Looking back on this moment the next morning, while nursing a cup of cocoa made from the recipe he had been given, he wished he had.

The monster (Crowley, the angel had called him) had said angel pinned to the concrete slab by way of claw-tipped fingers fisting into the feathers of his wings. Aziraphale’s head was thrown back, exposing the litany of colorful bite marks marring his pale throat. Tears pricked at the corners of his screwed shut eyes as Crowley lifted a hand from his wings to instead clutch at a tuft of snow-white curls and  _ yank _ . That set off a gasp and shudder that went all the way from his shoulders down to where his ankles had been freed to wrap around Crowley’s waist.

“That’s right,  _ angel,  _ sing for me. There’s no one to hear it but ussss…”

Crowley punctuated his order with a particularly hard thrust into the pliant body beneath him and Aziraphale responded with a desperate sob. 

Peter had to fight to keep from vomiting at the sight.

“P-please…”

Aziraphale gave a weak tug at the restraints around his wrists.

“ _ Fuck yesss... _ love it when you  _ squirm _ …”

Peter went slack against the charred doorframe. His mind had shut down and it was all he could do to keep himself upright at the horrid spectacle while he tried to gather his thoughts into enough order to charge in and  _ save  _ that poor angel. It was so much worse than he thought...that creature was  _ forcing himself- _

“Oh FUCK yes, my love! My darling! Harder,  _ please! _ I love you, I love you, I love you-” Aziraphale howled.

_ Wait, what? _

“Anything for you my angel, my life, my husband, my  _ everything!” _

Crowley kissed the angel beneath him with a tenderness that belied his savage movements.

For the second time that night, Peter found himself letting out a squeak. He immediately wanted to snatch the sound back and cram it back inside himself when the two beings (husbands???) turned their faces to him.

Crowley hissed at the intruder, eyes going full serpentine but the angel just looked put-out.

“Oh dear. It seems we have a voyeur, dearheart,” Aziraphale huffed.

Peter pushed himself away from the doorframe, eyes trained to the ceiling to avoid seeing where the other two were still joined together.

“I...I’m sorry. I h-h-heard a scream and w-went back to save you and I th-thought…” he stammered.

Crowley opened his mouth, either to let loose a verbal tirade the likes of which only famous television chefs were capable of producing (or a gout of Hellfire, he hadn’t decided) but his husband beat him to it. Now that the cuffs were no longer enchanted, the angel snapped his fingers and sent the embarrassed, trembling Peter to the safety of his own apartment.

Crowley sighed and resumed his thrusting, though now at a more lazy and sedate pace.

“Should have let me wipe his memory,” he griped.

Aziraphale purred and flexed his fingers. “No. I think this will be a good lesson for the young man.”

“Oh? And what lesson would that be?” Crowley grinned with a languid roll of his hips. “Don’t assume that an angel’s moans of pleasure are anything but?”

“‘Obey the sock on the door’,”

Crowley went still, eyes blown wide and jaw dropped.

“You cheeky little bastard! Where did you learn that?”

*~*~*~*~*

Peter sat on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up to his chest. Tonight had been an  _ ordeal _ ! In the span of  _ five minutes _ he had gone from angel abductor to recipe acquirer to would-be hero to accidental voyeur. He groaned and felt around for the little notecard in his pocket.

He could really use some of that cocoa right about now, Irished to perfection.


	3. A Real James Bond!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I felt bad that Peter never got to be a REAL hero, so I fixed that!
> 
> Please Note: In this fic, I headcanon Aziraphale and Crowley having actually gotten married in Eden (fuck that slowburn shit lol) so this fic is actually pre-canon, before the Bodyswap.

Peter grimaced and tightened his jacket against the light sprinkling of icy rain. He was cold, he was wet, and he was  _ grumpy! _

Work had been rough that day and all week long his roommate had been making fun of him for getting caught up in “that stupid cult nonsense”. He still flushed scarlet remembering how Dennis had practically fallen off the couch with how hard he had been laughing.

“ _ Dude, I told you to get out more, not get involved with fucking  _ Jonestown!”

_ “I thought it would be like a DnD session!” _

Peter scowled and pulled his hoodie down over his eyes. He didn’t need to see where he was going, he knew the way home blind. 

The rain petered out, leaving only the sounds of his wet footsteps on the sidewalk to accompany his trek through the darkened streets of Soho at midnight.

“You little fucking  _ traitor!” _

Peter practically jumped out of his skin at the voice. He spun in a circle, trying to find out where it had come from and whether or not it was directed towards  _ him  _ personally. All he saw were buildings and parked cars.

Nobody to be seen.

Just as Peter began to relax and think that, perhaps he had simply caught the tail end of an argument from an open window, there was the sound of tipped over garbage cans and a pained grunt coming from down the nearest alley.

Peter wanted to walk away.

He wanted to spin on his heels and pretend he hadn’t hurt the obvious sounds of a scuffle.

But then the same desire to be a hero flared up in his chest the way it did only a week hence and made up his mind for him.

Peter threw back his hood and  _ this time  _ announced his presence into the alley with a barked, “Hey!”

Inwardly he was hoping that, by simply calling attention to the altercation, whoever had started it would flee at the sight of a witness. Unfortunately, Peter’s life was never that straightforward.

All four of the alley’s occupants ceased what they were doing to turn to him and through the dim light of the streetlamps, Peter could make out two  _ very familiar  _ forms.

Aziraphale, the angel, was pinned on his stomach to the dirty ground. Another man had Aziraphale’s arm wrenched backwards and a knee pressed in between his shoulder blades to keep him grounded. With the hand  _ not  _ currently threatening to tear Aziraphale’s arm out of his shoulder socket, the being above pressed a lit, rusty lighter  _ dangerously  _ close to his face.

Crowley was standing, but only because he had been backed against the brick wall by a woman who pressed the nozzle of a spray bottle (why a spray bottle?) against the skin between his eyes. Crowley’s arms were held up in a gesture of surrender, eyes blown wide with ill-concealed fear.

The man and woman holding Crowley and Aziraphale hostage could have easily passed for twins were there not something distinctly  _ inhuman  _ about them. Both of them had hair clipped close to their heads that started out white near the scalp, but was darkened and burned near the tips. Their eyes were completely black, like some kind of deep-sea creature, and they wore a matching set of jackets that  _ might  _ have been grey at one point but were now stained a sickly shade of yellow.

“Get outta here, human,” snarled the woman. “Our business with these  _ traitors  _ does not concern you.”

Her finger twitched on the trigger of the spray bottle and Aziraphale cried out in distress. “Please! No! Don’t hurt him! Burn me if you must but  _ let him go!” _

“Angel, don’t you  _ dare-” _

Peter wasn’t 100% sure what was going on, but he knew he had to act. The twins, obviously expecting him to turn tail and run, were caught off guard when he lunged forward to tackle the woman to the ground.

She went down with a grunt and the spray bottle bounced out of her grasp.

Peter also wasn’t 100% sure what was in that bottle, but it  _ had  _ to have been something dangerous enough to use as a weapon! In one fluid motion he rolled off of her and snatched up the bottle. He didn’t even hesitate to aim it at the back of her head and pull the trigger.

Peter had expected acid or some other caustic material. What came out instead was clean-smelling water. The woman beneath him, however, writhed and shrieked on the ground as the water ate clean through her skull and the rest of her body dissolved to sludge.

Peter was only dimly aware of Crowley surging away from the wall to throw himself at the single remaining twin. The two of them grappled, Crowley fighting to keep the lighter as far away from his husband as possible, while Aziraphale snatched the squirt bottle out of Peter’s trembling hands.

“Crowley, get back!”

He did so, and the angel brought the bottle around to bear. The second twin didn’t even have a second to raise his hands to shield his face before he was misted with the water. Peter clapped his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes shut to block out the sights and sounds of the man being reduced to nothing more than a puddle.

When a few seconds had passed, Peter cracked open his eyes. Aziraphale had flung the now-empty bottle as far away as he could while Crowley ground the lighter under his heel until it cracked and went out. After that, it was but the span of a few heartbeats until the two of them were clinging to each other in a desperate embrace.

“ _ Holy shit, angel!  _ That was close! That was  _ way  _ too close!”

“Oh my dearest, forgive me! If I hadn’t suggested we go for a stroll-”

“Ssh ssh shh it’s nobody’s fault. If anything, it’s mine because I didn’t sense them coming and you could have been-”

“I was going to have to watch them  _ destroy you _ -”

“Who the fuck  _ were those people?!” _ Peter shrieked, voice cracking.

All at once Crowley and Aziraphale remembered they weren’t alone. The angel was the first to pull away enough to beam at Peter with watery eyes.

“Oh  _ thank you so much _ , my dear! It was rather touch and go for a moment there!”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed before widening again in recognition.

“Well I’ll be a sonofabitch! It’s Cocoa Kid!” he laughed.

“Who?” Aziraphale just looked confused.

Crowley untangled himself from Aziraphale’s arms to come stand in front of Peter. “Yeah! It’s him! It’s the kid who walked in on us last week! During the summoning?”

Aziraphale’s face lit up at that, but then promptly turned scarlet to match Peter’s.

“Ah, yes...the human…”

Crowley grinned like someone had just told him that every last member of the Tory party spontaneously combusted.

“Thanks for the timely rescue, human, but I gotta ask...you walk into an alley, see four blokes duking it out, and decide to intervene all by your lonesome? You don’t even have a weapon!” he cackled. “What on earth possessed you to do such a thing?”

Peter’s gaze fell and he shuffled his feet with something akin to shame. He muttered under his breath, “I...I wanted to be a  _ real  _ James Bond.”

Aziraphale’s hands fluttered over his heart. “Oh my dear…”

Crowley howled with laughter, throwing his arm over Peter’s shoulder in a sideways hug.

“Fucks sake! Look at the  _ balls  _ on you, kid!” He gave a playful slug to the human’s sternum. “You just took out a demon with Holy Water without a  _ second’s  _ hesitation! If  _ anyone’s  _ earned the name ‘James Bond’, it’s you! I’m gonna call you that now!”

Peter chuckled weakly and Crowley’s smile fell. “Hey, kid, are you alright?”

“‘M fine. I just...just…”

Peter’s next inhale was shaky. “I...those people...d-did I k-kill them?”

Crowley clapped his mouth shut, sucking his lips behind his teeth.

“Ah, er, ngk, that is to say…”

Aziraphale rushed forward and took Peter’s face in his hands. Human green met celestial blue and Peter, somehow, felt the horror at what he had done abate a little. The angel  _ wanted  _ to explain that no, those were not “people” but  _ demons _ who had threatened him and his husband’s lives. However, he also knew that such a statement would do little to help. Regardless of what those demons  _ were, _ someone had still been destroyed tonight, and Peter had been directly responsible for one.

Aziraphale let his eyes slip closed and Peter felt his do the same. There was a sound like an unfurling of wings, and all at once the human felt the fear inexplicably  _ shift. _ It was still  _ there,  _ but beneath it was a fierce undercurrent of a job well done.

It felt like reporting your co-worker for sexual harassment of another co-worker, even though you could lose your job.

It felt like calling protective services on a neighbor who had been physically beating her child, even though the abuser knew where you lived and could hurt you in retaliation.

It felt like giving a stranger stranded on the side of the road a jump to their car, even though you weren’t sure if you could trust them not to rob you.

It felt like rescuing two people from a pair of demons who sought to wipe them from the surface of the planet, even though you were just a human with a half-baked plan.

It felt like doing the right thing, despite being  _ terrified. _

Aziraphale’s hands came away and Peter opened his eyes again. He sighed, letting the knowledge that he had saved two lives settle into his bones.

“Thanks,” he breathed.

“It was no trouble, my dear boy,”

Crowley sidled up to Aziraphale’s side and wrapped an arm around his waist. With a flourish, he conjured a pair of shades identical to the ones perched on his face and handed them to Peter.

“I owe you, kid. Anytime you need me or my angel, we’ll be there. Don’t worry about looking for us. We’ll know,” he said, sincere.

Peter turned the glasses around in his hands, peering down into the darkened lenses. They looked  _ expensive! _ He looked back up, to refuse such a generous gift, but the angel and demon had vanished.

The human twisted, trying to see where they went, but there wasn’t so much as a single muddy footprint. 

Peter slipped on the shades.

And smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope my first foray into the Good Omen fanfic universe was acceptable! If you'd like, feel free to hit me up on Tumblr at candyqueenblog.tumblr.com! I'd love to hear from you or take your fic requests!


End file.
